


Thankful

by PhantomDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean x Reader, Dean x You - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Just...pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomDragon/pseuds/PhantomDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thanksgiving morn and neither of you want to leave bed; that is, until reader remembers about the turkey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thankful

The best way to wake up in the morning? You often wondere and found out exactly what that was this morning. The man you loved had his cheek resting in your hair and his arms were around you, settled just above your waist with his hands linked at the small of your back. He held you close, not so close as to smother you, but just tight enough that he felt like a warm comforter on a chilly day. 

When you felt like opening your eyes, the first thing you saw was the sun shining directly into them. Blinking away the spots dancing across your vision, you moved closer to Dean, carefully snaking an arm around him so as not to wake him. 

You loved the moments before he woke up and you could just watch him sleep. It was usually a peaceful slumber when you feel asleep in each others arms and today was no exception. The features of his face were relaxed, holding a perfectly peaceful expression, one he rarely had when he was awake. 

Soon he did stir and you ran your hand up his back as he half opened his eyes, a smile appearing on his face when he saw you. His soft white tee shirt was warm beneath your fingertips. Dean pulled you a little closer while lifting his shoulders in a tiny in place stretch. 

“Hi,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff with sleep.

“Hi,” you returned, running your fingers along the bottom of his hair, the corners of your mouth curling up in a smile of your own. Dean pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and closed his eyes again.

“Can we just stay here all day?” he whispered against your skin.

“If it wasn’t Thanksgiving,” you groaned, wildly torn between staying here and checking on the turk- 

“Oh, crap, the turkey!” you yelped, untangling yourself from Dean and running out of the room, leaving him chuckling at your retreating form.

You’d slept too late. The alarm was meant to go off two hours ago and you’d slept right through it. The smell of said turkey got stronger as you neared the kitchen. 

“Please don’t be burnt, please don’t be burnt, please don’t be- …Cas?”

The angel looked up at you, a tiny smile dancing across his lips at the way you skidded into the kitchen on stockinged feet. He gestured to the warmer in the middle of the table that you’d set out the night before. “You said it had to be out of the oven at 7, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I did it myself. You both needed rest.”

You laughed in relief, rising to your tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Cas. What would I do without you?”

Castiel suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settled for clasping them behind his back, a mix of pride and bashfulness on his face. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Is the turkey all right?” came Dean’s still sleepy voice. 

Coming up behind you, he slung his arms comfortably around your waist. 

“Thanks to Cas it is,” you smiled up at him.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Nice going, Cas, you saved dinner.”

“It was no trouble,” the angel assured the two of you.

You all pause as a loud clatter dishes reaches your ears and Sam’s voice calls, “Hey, Cas, can you come help me with this?” You heard a soft flutter of fabric not a second later and knew Castiel was gone. 

“You know what I’m most thankful for?” Dean asks, breaking the silence.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and look up at him, biting your lip playfully as you pretended to think hard. 

“The turkey not being burned?”

“No,” Dean chuckled.

“Pumpkin pie?”

Dean tickled your sides, making you squeal. “Close, but no.” He stopped tickling you and dropped his chin down to rest on your shoulder. “You,” he whispered.

You turned around and gazed into Dean’s emerald eyes, seeing the skin around them crinkle as he smiled down at you. You ran your hands through his hair, your fingertip brushing the tips of his ears that were turning just the slightest bit pink at his confession.

“I’m most thankful for you too.”


End file.
